The Ritz is under New Management
by Demon Cow
Summary: How will Aziraphale and Crowley react to the way thier favourite restaurant is now being run? And who is the new manager?
1. Welcome to the Ritz

**The Ritz is under New Management**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Good Omens, nor do I own the Ritz. But I do own the original characters (though I wish I didn't, they are annoying).**

**A/N: I have no idea what is on the menu at the Ritz.**

**Chapter 1: Welcome to the Ritz**

"After you, my dear." Chimes Aziraphale with a grins as he holds the door open for his friend/enemy (a "frienemy", if you will), Crowley.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Replies the demon, as he saunters through the entrance to their favourite restaurant, the Ritz. The angel's face keeps smiling, but Crowley could not help noticing a large blood vessel bulge on Aziraphale's forehead. "And uh, you might want to get that checked out." He says while giving it a poke.

Aziraphale slaps Crowley's hand away and walks past him. He stops abruptly and stares at the freak standing where the maître d'is supposed to be. "Who the he- who are you!"

"Yeah, and what happened to Martin?" Adds Crowley.

"Martin was fired." Replied the new guy. He is very young and has too many piercings to count. His cheap nametag reads "Hi-my-name-is-Blazer". Aziraphale twitches at the sight of him.

"But Martin has worked here for 42 years." Says Crowley with more sadness and longing than usual for a demon. Aziraphale glances at the ground with the same amount of feeling.

"We are under new management." Says Hi-my-name-is-Blazer while digging in his left ear with his pinky. Crowley and Aziraphale glance at each other. Neither wants to just leave, so with a slight flick of Crowley's wrist, their name appears on the list of reservations. "So do you dudes have a reservation?"

"Yes, we are Mr. Crowley and Mr. Fell." Says Crowley.

"How many people in your party?"

Crowley and Aziraphale exchange glances again. "Two." Snarls Crowley.

"Smoking or non-smoking?"

"Oh for heav- pe- _someone's_ sake! This is a non-smoking establishment!" Shrieks Aziraphale, who until that point has been holding in his impatience.

Hi-my-name-is-Blazer sniffs and gives them a glance that seems to say either "I know that, someone is paying me to ask these questions." Or "Hey, at least my manatee doesn't owe pineapples to a shampoo bottle." However, both the angel and the demon interprets it as "Hey look! I can still breathe with 10 pounds of metal and gems drilled into my face!" They giggle at this thought while they follow Hi-my-name-is Blazer to a table.

"Excuse me, sir, but this isn't our usual table." Whines Aziraphale. Hi-my-name-is-Blazer blinks and walks away.

"Just sit down, Angel." Sighs Crowley.

**End of Chapter 1**


	2. You got served

**Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens or the Ritz. I do own the original characters (that's right, I'm stuck with the freaky people).**

**Chapter 2: You got served.**

Aziraphale and Crowley sit in silence. They use this time as an opportunity to study the dining area. Same white tablecloths, same green wallpaper, same blue plush carpet, and same fat, rich guy in the corner surrounded by different young ladies everyday…

After about three minutes, the not-so-young-waitress comes bounding up the aisle. She had her bleached hair in a ponytail, too much make-up on her face, a red shirt that said "Ritz" in rhinestones, and (here's the worst part) tight, black short-shorts. Both men-shaped creatures are afraid to look directlyat her for fear of losing their appetite. "Hi-my-name-is-April." She says in a strange accent. Crowley figures it is supposed to be Spanish, while Aziraphale thinks it is more French. Either way, she failed horribly at it. "May I start you out with some drinks?"

"Ah, yes. We will have a bottle of Amontillado." Chirps Aziraphale.

The girl gives him a wide-eyed stare. Then she glances around the room and shuffles a little. "Er…we um…we only serve Coca-Cola products here so…"

"Amontillado issss a wine." Seethes Crowley, speaking each syllable slowly.

"Oh yes, we have wine. Would you like a Merlot?"

"No, my dear, we want an amontillado." Says the angel, also slowing his speech.

"Well…we..."

"You don't have it anymore do you?" Snarls Crowley.

"No, sir." Whispers Hi-my-name-is-April as she inches away. Crowley starts rising from his seat. However, Aziraphale catches his shirt sleeve and yanks him back down before he can make a scene.

"A glass of Merlot will be fine." Says Aziraphale, trying his absolute hardest to seem cheerful. With that, Hi-my-name-is-April walks away as fast as she could without breaking into a run.

The angel notices that Crowley was still smoldering in his seat. He leans over and pats his arm. "Let's hope they can still cook, right old chap?" He pipes. Crowley lets out a grunt and picks up the menu. Aziraphale does the same (but with less grunting). At least the choices have not changed. Both take this as a good omen.

While the supernatural beings were making their selections in their heads, Hi-my-name-is-April comes waltzing up the aisle with the same happy-go-lucky expression on her face that she had before the met the two main characters. She gently places a bottle and four glasses on the table. She fills two of them with the freezing water from her pitcher. When she is finished, she looks up and asks, "May I take your order?"

"Chicken cordon bleu for me, please." Answers Aziraphale.

"Would you like fries with that?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oops. That was my old job. Anyways, what about you?"

"Oxtail soup." States the demon.

"Please pull up to the second win…doh I mean…Thank you, your order will be ready shortly." Hi-my-name-is-April says with a blush. She starts to walk off, then turns around, picks up the menus, and then leaves again.

Sure enough, the food arrives shortly. The tray is being carried by a large, but plain looking How-may-I-be-of-service?-Stanley. Aziraphale and Crowley toast each other as he places the plates in front of them. Yet shortly after How-may-I-be-of-service?-Stanley walked off, Crowley screams and hurls the table as far as he can (which is about four feet…).

While Crowley races for the kitchen door, Aziraphale looks around at the astonished faces of the other diners. "Er…sorry about that…I'll just, uh, yea…" Stutters the angel as he slowly and awkwardly heads in the same direction as his frienemy.

Laying on the carpet where they two protagonists were a few seconds ago, is broken glass, silverware, a mixture of water, wine, and broth, chicken that has been dyed blue, and an ox tail with the fur still on it.

**End of chapter 2**


	3. Meeting the Manager

**Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens or the Ritz. I do own the original characters (I would put them on sale, but then again, I might need them later on).**

**Chapter 3: Meeting the Manager**

Crowley goes through the flapping double doors that lead into the kitchen. He grabs a greasy, tattooed man (presumably the cook) and shouts a long jumble of cusswords and insults with the phrase "I demand to ssspeak to your manager!" at the end.

"Yes, that would be me." Says a deep voice behind Crowley. Crowley whips around to see the thin, ugly, frame of Hastur trying to look some-what professional by wearing an ill-fitting, cheap suit.

Crowley stands with his mouth agape. He unconsciously lets go of the cook who immediately falls backwards into Aziraphale. If this were a normal occasion, Aziraphale would have helped him up; however the angel is too busy being surprised by Crowley's reaction to this random, thin, ugly, frame of a guy trying to look some-what professional by wearing an ill-fitting, cheap suit. Aziraphale pushes the cook aside and asks nervously "Do you two know each other?"

"Ngk." Responds Crowley.

"Now, now, aren't you going to introduce me to your acquaintance?" Chides Aziraphale.

"Nngaaaah" Squeaks Crowley in a pitch so high that one would think he was a housewife from the 1950's that has just seen a mouse in her spotless kitchen. "Ok, calm down, and be cool." Mutters Crowley to himself. He runs his hands through his jet black hair and pushes up his sunglasses.

"Mr. Fell, this is an old buddy…" Crowley feels his stomach tying into a knot on that last word. He adjusts his sunglasses again and squints at Hastur's nametag. It said "Mr. Hasture". He rolled his eyes. Demons are not generally creative, but that is just pathetic. "…my old buddy Mr. Hasture. Mr. Hasture, Mr. Fell owns a book store."

Hastur(e) and Aziraphale shake hands. "A book store? Well maybe I should stop by someti-"

"One that specializes in bibles." Interrupts Crowley.

"Then again, I am a very busy man." Continues Hastur(e) uneasily.

"And so am I." Responds Aziraphale with the same amount of wariness.

"Well we took up a lot of your time today, so we're just gonna go now…" Says Crowley while nudging Aziraphale towards the door.

"Ok" Replies Hastur(e).

"Really?"

"Really what?"

"We can go?"

"Uh, yeah."

"That's it? There's no ca-"

"LEAVE ALREADY!"

With that, the angel and the demon exit the Ritz and never went back there again. Which is exactly what Hastur(e) wanted.

**xoxoxo THE END xoxoxo**


End file.
